


Acts of Sacrifice

by DarkAngelBK201



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Angst, Blood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SnB spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4544406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelBK201/pseuds/DarkAngelBK201
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ja'far is attacked during a late night walk, Sinbad will stop at nothing to find his attacker and get revenge. But as it turns out, this situation is a lot more complicated than anybody originally realized. SnB spoilers!</p><p>Posted originally on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing as this fic is a lot longer than any other magi fics I've written recently, this one is multichaptered. Not entirely sure how long its going to be as of yet. As I've stated in "Don't Let Go", chapters are first posted to tumblr and then uploaded here, so if you want to get the updates first, you can find me on tumblr at thisisthee-n-d.tumblr.com.

The faint glimmer of twinkling stars wove through the otherwise endless expanse of the velvety black sky, their faint light paling in comparison to the glowing moon that hung high on the horizon. A growing mist billowed with the cool breeze, clinging to the bottom edges of life worn buildings lining the cobblestone street. The air smelled of the ocean and tasted of salt, nearly overpowering the scent of people that lived nearby. Muted sounds echoed through the narrow path, muffled by the walls containing them. The street was shadowed, the darkness broken only by flickering candlelight that splashed through open windows. Footsteps scraped on the damp stones, carefully measured and nearly silent. 

Ja’far walked, his pale face shining in the bright moonlight, through the empty street, his face twisted into a pensive frown. Tufts of silver hair poked out from beneath his keffiyeh, falling messily into his dark, distracted eyes. The red jewel hanging between his eyebrows caught the light and reflected it onto a nearby wall. His arms swung at his sides with his movements, his long sleeves folded up. Red wiring wrapped around his wrists, strapping gleaming blades to his forearms for quick access. In the darkness, however, his weapons were barely visible. Exhaustion lines were etched into the skin under his eyes, his shoulders weighed down by it. A light sigh escaped from between parted lips, his eyes closing briefly.

He’d been having difficulty sleeping recently and in an attempt to hide this from his colleagues, especially a certain overbearing king, he’d taken to walking the streets of his beloved Sindria while the others slept. It gave him time to think at least, though if this continued, he would have to consider pursuing aid. Pausing in his walk, he pressed calloused fingers to his temple, rubbing gently at the soft skin as if to chase off his fatigue. Perhaps it was time to return to the palace to attempt sleep once more.

The sound of metal scraping against stone made him freeze, his muscles tensing. His eyes shot open, straining in the darkness in an attempt to make out any shapes. Cursing quietly under his breath, he lowered his hand, reaching for the knives strapped to his wrists with a practiced ease. No one was supposed to be out at this hour…No one but him. The area fell to silence once more, Ja’far releasing a quiet breath as he forcibly relaxed. 

The quick pitter patter of feet was his only warning.

Pulling his blades into his hands, he whirled around, casting his weapon out in a single, fluid flick. The knife passed through empty air and clanged on stone, clattering to the ground not a moment later. Ja’far scowled, his eyes narrowing. He couldn’t see anyone. Hell, he couldn’t even sense anyone. But there was someone here. Recalling his weapon with a forceful tug, he stilled once more, allowing his eyes to drift shut. A puddle splashed nearby, the sound heavy. 

Ja’far stepped to the side, a rushing breeze rustling his robes. Eyes snapping open, he rose his knife as if to strike, his body freezing once more as his eyes locked onto his attacker, sprawled onto the ground by their own momentum. Bright eyes glared up at him, a blade clutched tightly in their hands. The blood draining from his features, his hands fell numbly to his sides. How could he be expected to fight…when…when…?

His attacker didn’t waste a moment, surging forward the moment Ja’far lowered his guard. Blood spurted through the air, the advisor’s pained cry lost to the darkness. He collapsed heavily to the ground, grasping at the now open wound slicing across his abdomen. Crimson pooled between the cobblestones, smearing into the rock when the attacker stepped in front of him, one of his feet clipped the small puddle. Pain swirled up to further incapacitate Ja’far, his free hand curling weakly out in front of him. 

The knife slashed downwards once more.

Above them, dark clouds consumed the bright moonlight, encasing the world below in shadows.

**MLMMLM**

Sinbad awoke to chaos surging just outside his bedroom door, the urgent yelling putting the still drowsy man on edge. He pulled himself into a sitting position, his thin blankets pooling at his waist. Lifting a hand, he rubbed at his eyes, trying to force the sleep from them. Purple locks of hair spilled over his back, released from its usual constraint. Bleary hazel eyes gleamed just behind the thick fringe, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

What in the hell was going on?

Stumbling out of bed, Sinbad slipped on the pair of pants that was crumpled at his feet, not bothering to find clean clothes as he surged towards the door. The door slammed open before he could reach it, a giant of a man all but crashing through it in his haste. The king only blinked, eyebrows furrowing further. “Uh, Hinahoho?” he questioned, his voice still heavy with sleep. Hinahoho snapped his gaze down towards Sinbad, his face drawn with worry. 

“Good, you’re already awake! I need you to come with me!” his general demanded, grabbing Sinbad’s forearm with one large hand and pulling him none too gently from the room. Nearly tripping over his own two feet, it took the king a moment to fall into step with Hinahoho. The bruising grip around his arm tightened when he tried to pull it away. 

“May I ask what this is all about?” Hinahoho didn’t even spare the man a glance when he answered, his voice rough with urgency and concern. 

“Ja’far was attacked last night.” Sinbad’s eyes widened, his breath freezing in his throat. Yanking his arm free, he pushed forward, taking the lead without a moment’s hesitation. His pace was quick, his bare feet slapping against the tile. Panic shone in his golden gaze, fear twitching at the downward curve of his lips. 

“What’s his condition? Do we have any details about what happened?” Hinahoho shook his head, strands of aquamarine hair pulling free from his headband. 

“I am not sure of Ja’far’s condition. He is with the healers currently. An investigation has been ordered, but has not begun as of yet.” Sinbad nodded sharply, the lack of information allowing his fear to burrow deeper into his being. His hands curled into tight fists, his body tense. His hair billowed behind him, swishing outward with his movements. 

Within moments, they burst into Ja’far’s chambers, Sinbad’s chest heaving though he attempted to hide it. Wild eyes scanned the room desperately, not noticing the startled glances of those already occupying the small area and latching onto the prone form of his advisor nearly instantly. Jaw clenched, he approached the bed slowly, dropping to his knees beside it. His hand slipped into Ja’far’s limp hand, squeezing it gently.

Ja’far didn’t twitch at the touch, closed eyelids hiding onyx eyes from view. Pale eyelashes fanned out on his equally pale cheeks, light freckles speckling across the bridge of his nose. A bandage was taped to the edge of his jaw, another wrapped tightly around his head. More wound over his torso, speckled with darkening stains of crimson blood. Sinbad felt sick looking at it. Silver hair was crusted with scarlet, clumping the thin strands together. Even the hand he was holding was caked with blood, crumbling off onto the bedspread when it was disturbed. 

The healers appeared to be mostly finished with their treatment, though they shifted nervously when their king’s frantic gaze fell upon them. “Report,” he ordered, his voice steady. A stern magician stepped forward, ignoring the nervous mumbling of his colleagues. 

“Lord Ja’far is in stable condition. He suffered multiple lacerations, mostly to his abdomen, several of them severe, though not enough to threaten his life. With rest, he should recover.” The tension drained from Sinabd’s shoulders, his head falling forward with a harsh exhale. 

“He’s going to be alright?” The healer nodded, a relieved smile slipping across his own features.

“Yes, my king. He’s going to be alright.” 

“Oh, thank Solomon…” Gazing at the relaxed expression on his advisor’s face, Sinbad’s own expression hardened, golden eyes flicking up to the dark bruise accenting one of Ja’far’s delicate eyes. He stood, scowling, and turned towards Hinahoho, who stood expectantly by the door. “This was deliberate, wasn’t it?” The general nodded solemnly, meeting his king’s eyes. 

“I believe so yes,” he responded, frowning at his own words.

“I want guards on all of my generals as soon as is possible. We can’t risk something like this happening again. And someone fetch me some clothes… I need to check the scene out for myself.” 


	2. Chapter 2

The street was roped off, the thin barriers guarded on each end by members of Sinbad’s own personal staff. They nodded at Sinbad and Hinahoho when they walked past, their gazes straying momentarily from their assigned task. The king smiled, teeth gleaming in the bright morning sun, but his eyes held none of their usual warmth. The grin faded the moment they passed through, a slight scowl pulling at his lips instead. Stopping the moment the scene was in sight, that scowl deepened, his golden eyes dark with a hidden pain.

Blood, now dry and dark, was smeared across the pebbled street, streaks of it dragged across one of the walls. It was caked into the crevices in between the stonework, spreading outwards from a central puddle that was not quite dry yet. Bright crimson reflected the sunlight near the center of the ring. Scarlet spatters speckled the dirt surrounding the drying pool, some coalescing in the form of a messy handprint. A heavy dent adorned one of the walls, a missed attack by the looks of it. But there appeared to be no other evidence of the attack. That wasn’t exactly a good sign. There was only so much they could figure out by looking at blood.

Not that Sinbad really wanted to stare at this place for much longer. Nausea rolled in his stomach at the grisly scene, his teeth biting at the inside of his cheek to gain some semblance of control. His thoughts inevitably strayed to the pale form of his advisor. He had been here, laying in this exact spot, bleeding alone for hours with no one to help him. Jaw clenching, Sinbad averted his gaze, closing those thoughts down almost as they appeared. Hinahoho’s expression was troubled, amber eyes trained on that browning splotch on the cobblestones.

“You found him, am I correct, Hinahoho?” Sinbad asked quietly. The general glanced quickly at him, his eyebrows slanted in his turmoil. Sinbad almost regretted bringing it up, but he had to know. The situation was volatile and could get worse at any moment. It was best to nip this in the bud as soon as they were able. Hinahoho’s hands shook subtly at his sides, hands curled into tight fists.

“I did,” he admitted, a low tremble to his words. He turned away, the dark scar slashing across his cheek bulging as he clenched his teeth. “I was out for my morning walk…just stretching my legs before the day…when I found him…” Tears shone in his eyes, but he was quick to blink them back. “He’d been laying here for hours by my reckoning…and there was just so much blood…I picked him up as carefully as I could and ran to the palace…” He glanced down at his hands, remembering the way Ja’far had felt so  _small_  in his grasp. Sinbad’s gaze flicked to the dark stain, immediately picking out the smears from Hinahoho’s hands. His eyes were soft when he trained them back onto the older general, his lips tight.

“Did-” he started, his voice hoarse. Clearing his throat once, he tried again, ignoring the tears burning in his own eyes. “Did you notice anything odd about the scene?” Hinahoho shook his head, but stopped, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought.

“Maybe…When I found him, Ja’far’s weapons were unraveled, both of his knives not far from his hands. But looking now, there’s not really any obvious signs of struggle…” Eyes widening, Sinbad quickly scanned the scene once more, searching for anything that pointed towards a fight. He lingered on the crumbling dent in the stone wall. That would have taken a powerful hit to make, something he knew Ja’far was more than capable of doing. Sighing, he brushed the purple fringe from his eyes.

“Ja’far has the skills of an assassin, Hinahoho. He knows how to keep himself concealed, especially during a fight. He knows how to leave a battlefield completely untouched.” The general chuckled humorlessly, gesturing to the area in front of them.

“With this much blood? No, I say that something stopped him from defending himself. Magic perhaps?” Sinbad started at that, his scowl deepening in thought. It was possible…but no, it didn’t fit. Exhaling heavily, he shook his head.

“No, there’s not enough residual magoi in the area for magic to have been a factor… But I think you’re right… Ja’far didn’t struggle, not much anyway.” The image of Ja’far laying prone in an ever-growing puddle of his own blood flashed before his eyes once more, pain creasing his features as he struggled to remain conscious. With a shudder, he forced that from his mind, anger beginning to burn within him. This shouldn’t have happened. Not in his kingdom. The entire situation set him on edge. “So what the hell did happen?!” he growled, tight fists forming at his sides.

“It’s impossible to say,” Hinahoho responded with a light shrug, fixing his concerned gaze on his king. “When Ja’far wakes up, we can get more information.” Pausing, he frowned, not liking the dark fury rolling in waves from Sinbad. “C’mon, let’s return to the palace. This place is only making you angry. We’ve gotten all we can here.” He turned away, beginning the trek back to the castle. Releasing his breath slowly, he allowed his anger to fade, his hands uncurling. But as he moved to follow the giant, something caught his eye.

A small footprint, mostly intact, was stained onto the cobblestone street in flaking blood. It was smudged slightly, as if its owner had slid a little while standing, and it gave the appearance of a bare foot, individual toes fanning out from the larger center.

**MLMMLM**

Sinbad leaned heavily back against the wall near the door, one hand briefly rubbing at his aching temples. Ever since he had woken up this morning, his life had been chaos, running from one place to another without much time in between to breathe, much less think. The one moment he had a few seconds to relax and just sit, he’d been pulled outside once more. Drakon stood in front of him, arms crossed sternly over his chest. His eyes were hard, etched with worry. It seemed Sinbad wasn’t the only one who’d been tense all day. Heaving a sigh, he lowered his hand. “What can I do for you, Drakon?” he asked, attempting to keep the fatigue from his voice.

“The investigation team is currently combing through the attack site, but I heard from the guards that you had stopped by earlier this morning,” Drakon began. Sinbad nodded briefly to confirm, preparing for the lecture that was sure to come. Surprisingly though, Drakon just continued on. “I’ve been hearing conflicting reports concerning the scene. I was wondering if I may get your opinions of the scene.”

“What is it you need to know?”  The general was silent for a moment, studying his king’s haggard face. Weariness hung over him like cloud, his golden eyes dull.

“Do you believe that Al-Thamen is making their move?” Exhaling heavily, Sinbad averted his gaze to stare up at the vaulted ceiling, a frustrated scowl twisting his expression. Guards stirred nervously nearby at the mention of the organization’s name, their grip tightening around the long spears clutched in their armored hands. In a few short hours, the palace had gone from a standard guard to a full-fledged guard, soldiers posted practically everywhere. Sinbad missed the relaxed mood that usually wove through the halls, uncomfortable with the heavy tension that had replaced it. All because of one attack that may, or may not, have been caused by their greatest and most dangerous foe.

“Honestly, no.” Drakon cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. “If this was Al-Thamen, it would have been a lot flashier and likely signed in such a way that would have cleared all doubt that it was them. It’s just the way they operate. When people aren’t aware of their presence, they’re stealthier, but in our case, they’ll do whatever they need to in order to ensure our defeat. This-” Sinbad gestured to the door lingering just to his left, his arm flying out dramatically. “This was far too subtle for them. And if you want further proof: there was no residual magoi at the site.” The general blinked at that, a little surprised by that statement. “You and I both know that Al-Thamen is a magic based organization. There’s absolutely no way they would attack a member of my household without using magic in some form.” Silence fell over the pair, the reptilian man considering his king’s words.

“What do you propose happened then? We have very few enemies with enough power to defeat Ja’far…” Sinbad’s jaw clenched, his scowl deepening at the question.

“If I knew the answer to that question, do you really think I’d be standing here right now?” he hissed, his suppressed frustration boiling over into pure anger. He sucked in a quick breath in an attempt to calm himself, though it didn’t help all that much. “Ja’far is-” The sound of the door creaking open beside them cut him off.

“King Sinbad?” a young man, a healer judging from his appearance, addressed quietly, poking his head out from the door’s edge. Sinbad’s head snapped over to the door, his anger draining from him as quickly as it arose, soon replaced by a heart-stopping fear. What if…? He didn’t dare finish that thought. The healer’s gaze flicked between the king and the stand-in head general curiously, but continued speaking when he noticed that the attention was on him. “Lord Ja’far appears to be waking up. I thought you might like to know.”

The moment the words left the healer’s mouth, Sinbad rushed into the room, his hand closing around the door to open it further. Drakon repressed a smile at his king’s haste at the news, but said nothing, instead turning away. He would have to relay Sinbad’s information to the investigation squad. After all, it would take an act of Solomon himself to pull the king away from his advisor at the moment.


	3. Chapter 3

The door clicked softly shut behind Sinbad, his wide eyes locking onto the bed the moment it was in sight. He could scarcely breathe as the form twitched and moved in response to the noise, twisting their head to face his relieved expression. Ja’far blinked wearily up at Sinbad, his onyx eyes glazed with pain and wreathed with dark bags. It was enough, though, to see life glimmer in that gaze, to see an expression on his freckled face, despite how pale it still was. Sighing softly, he moved towards the chair by Ja’far’s bed, interlocking his fingers with his advisor’s immediately. A weak smile trembled on Ja’far’s lips, pulling slightly at the bandages adorning his features. “Hello, Sin,” he greeted hoarsely.

Sinbad wanted to kiss him right there, an urge he quickly suppressed. Instead, he smiled warmly, squeezing Ja’far’s hand in reassurance. “Hey,” he reciprocated, his voice just as brittle. “How’re you feeling?” Ja’far shrugged, a grimace crossing his expression at the movement. He sucked in a breath, his throat closing around the resulting groan. Sinbad’s expression crumpled, his eyebrows drawing together in concern.

“I’m alright, Sin.” Huffing, he rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

“Like hell you are. And I’m Solomon.” Pausing, Sinbad allowed his gaze to drift back to Ja’far, frowning slightly. “It’s alright to show weakness every once in a while, Ja’far. I hope you know that.” A smile broke out on Ja’far’s face, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

“I’ll follow in your excellent example then, Sin. Now remind me… How many times have I had to drag you to a healer after you adamantly protested that ‘nothing’s wrong, Ja’far’ or ‘I’m fine, Ja’far’?” Sinbad’s mouth dropped open, only for nothing to leave it. The words were caught somewhere in his throat, trapped by a mix of bafflement and amusement. He averted his gaze, his cheeks flushed with a rosy tint.

“….Impressive imitation…” Laughter, albeit a little strained, followed the remark, breaking the heavy tension that had filled the room. No longer fighting the grin that was pulling at the corners of his lips, Sinbad joined in, his free hand coming up to cup his face. Within a few moments, the laughter faded, a pained sigh echoing in the silence that followed. Sinbad leaned over his advior’s prone form, brushing aside the stray strands of silver hair that fell into his eyes. Onyx eyes stared earnestly into ones of shimmering gold, lips parting without thought. Their lips met, softly at first, but quickly becoming more aggressive, more passionate. Sin cupped Ja’far’s cheek, eyes slipping shut as a tongue swiped at his bottom lip.

A bandaged palm pressed against his cheek, a low groan rumbling in the back of his throat at the deepening kiss. Desperation seeped through his lips, pushing himself more forcefully onto the form on the bed. At the first wince, his eyes flew open and he broke the kiss, breathing deeply through his open, and now bruised, mouth. They stared at each other, their faces flushed. “I’m sorry…” Sinbad breathed, eye drifting to the bandages encasing Ja’far’s body. Blood flowered on the white cloth, the injuries still fresh. They would need to be changed soon. Ja’far blinked, a perplexed frown creasing his features as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Whatever for?” Sinbad’s eyes squeezed shut, his hand tightening around Ja’far’s.

“For…For not being there, when you needed me the most…” The softly spoken words betrayed his pain, a single tear trickling out from behind closed eyelids. Ja’far’s expression softened, brushing the tear away with a single swipe of his thumb. Sinbad turned into his advisor’s touch, releasing a shaky breath.

“Sin…” His eyes cracked open, the tortured golden hue peeking out from between the slit. A wry smile slipped across Ja’far’s features. “You would blame yourself for something that you had no control over. You were asleep. I made sure of that before I left the palace.” Confusion flashed across Sinbad’s expression momentarily, replaced almost immediately by understanding.

“You been having trouble sleeping again, haven’t you?” A shrug answered his words, Ja’far’s dark eyes slipping innocently to the side. “Ja’far! I told you to come to me if that started happening again!”

“I didn’t want to bother you with such a trivial problem. It hadn’t gotten that bad yet.” Sinbad clenched his jaw, anger blazing in his eyes.

“Such a trivial-Ja’far! You left the palace at night  _alone!_ That’s a big problem!” Huffing, Ja’far dropped his arm, glaring up at the man hovering over him still.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you would react like this!” A growl leaving his throat, Sinbad stood, the chair clattering against the floor with the violent force.

“What part of ‘you were attacked’ do you not understand?! You can’t even get out of fucking bed! And you’re telling me that you got this badly injured because you were  _wide awake_?” Accusation dripped from his tone, snarling from his throat. Ja’far grew silent, his gaze dropping to his bedsheets.

“…Not entirely, no…” Sinbad’s eyes widened, his anger fading at the quiet admission.

“What do you mean by that…?” The silence was nearly deafening, Ja’far’s bandages hands clenching tightly at the blankets.

“I…I couldn’t…When I saw them, I lowered my guard…I couldn’t attack someone like that….” Ja’far mumbled, keeping his gaze away from his king. Shock was written plainly on Sinbad’s face, mixing well with the deep concern that shone in his eyes. Swallowing harshly, he knelt by the bed, grasping at Ja’far’s hand once more.

“Did you lower you guard purposefully?” he asked hesitantly, not sure he’d like the answer. Ja’far nodded, his hand tightening around Sinbad’s. “Do you remember who it was who attacked you?” The tense pause that stretched between the question and the response felt longer than it should have been. Finally, Ja’far shook his head, lifting shadowed onyx eyes to those of his king.

“No…My memory of that night is still a little unclear…I remember lowering my guard…but after that…it’s a little foggy… I’m sorry, Sin.” Offering a gentle smile, Sinbad pressed his lips to Ja’far’s bruised forehead, combing his fingers through the tangled silver locks.

“It’s alright, Ja’far. Just tell me when you’re ready.” Pausing, Sinbad studied his advisor, not liking what he was seeing. Exhaustion clung to Ja’far’s lithe frame, weighing down his eyelids and staining the undersides of his eyes. “Now, how about you get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Ja’far looked as if he wanted to argue, but instead nodded slowly, letting his eyes drift shut, an urge he’d been fighting for a little while now.

Once Ja’far relaxed, Sinbad sighed, running his free hand messily though his hair, pressing his fingertips into the base of his skull. Nothing was adding up. The evidence of the scene showed that the attacker was skilled at what they did and there was absolutely no way that Ja’far would just sit back and allow someone like that to attack him, not if it meant that it could put Sindria at risk. Like him, Ja’far would fight to the death for this country, defending it with all he had. So why had he let this happen?

Without bidding, the memory of the bloodstained street flashed through his head, focused on the imprint of the smeared footprint on the stonework, too small to belong to an adult. Eyes flashing open, Sinbad’s hand slid from his hair in shock. No, Ja’far wouldn’t let something like this happen…if it were an adult that was attacking him.

But a child…perhaps he would.

Ja’far would never hurt a child, even if, no especially if, they were attacking him. The sight would hit a little too close to home, to his tortured days as an assassin. But a child could never orchestrate something as complex as this. Ja’far had been left alive, which was meant as a message, a warning to Sinbad. But using children…

Who was fucked up enough to use a child to do their bidding?

Jolting upright in his chair, the blood drained from Sinbad’s features, his hand latching onto his shoulder. It couldn’t be… It just wasn’t possible. Terror lodging firmly in his stomach, he released Ja’far’s hand. Then, reaching out with trembling fingers, he slowly unraveled the bandages wrapped tightly around the advisor’s own shoulder. Tears stung at his eyes when the first of the lacerations was visible, the terror escalating to full panic. He couldn’t breathe as the last of the wrappings came undone, his heart seizing in his chest. The stained cloth fell from numb fingers, pooling on the mattress below.

There carved into the pale flesh, written in blood:

_M_

**MLMMLM**

A child, wearing nothing but a ripped pair of shorts, stumbled up to a tall set of stairs, dropping to his knees the moment he reached them. Flaking blood was caked on most of his skin, staining his blond hair with a dark red. A deep fatigue weighed down his limbs, his legs shaking as he held up his own body weight. He dropped his head, refusing to look up until called upon.

“Is it done?” a sickly sweet voice questioned from above, seductive in its false kindness. The boy stiffened at the voice, his body starting to shake. He carefully rested a bloodstained dagger in front of him, the gold encrusted hilt gleaming in the candlelight. Silence followed the movement, the figure sitting above him studying the weapon from afar. “You left the mark?” He nodded, his hands clenching into fists in the dirt.

“You’ve done well, my child. Come, rest your eyes upon your mother.” Tears dripped from his eyes when he lifted them, joy surging through his exhausted frame. Sitting upon a lush throne, an older woman sat, her rich black hair spilling in thick waves down her back. Resting on her head was a crown, twin horns poking up from each side of her head. Her irises shone with an unearthly light, resting in pools of deep black. Her right hand, tapping at the arm of her throne, bore a strange glove which emanated power. But a sharp smile graced her features, her lips painted a bright crimson. She beckoned to the boy in front of her.

“Please, come see your mother. You’ve been such a good boy.”

“Thank you, Madaura!” the boy cried, rushing up the stairs to grasp at the woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked the part where they made out. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so now that the villain has been revealed, I can say this. THERE ARE HEAVY SNB SPOILERS IN THIS FIC! IF YOU ARE NOT UP TO DATE ON THE SIDE MANGA READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! It mostly relates to Maader stuff.

“You know this isn’t a good idea…”

Masrur’s voice was stern, carefully modulated words piercing in their intensity. Sinbad paused in his stride, blazing hazel eyes shooting to the side. Masrur leaned up against the far wall, arms crossed over his armored chest. His head was angled downwards, his eyes closed. But there was a hidden anger there, just roaring beneath the calm mask he’d pulled down. A tight scowl pulling at his lips, Sinbad resumed walking, returning his gaze to the space in front of him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he retorted calmly. Masrur hefted a sigh, his eyes drifting open, and pushed off the wall, easily keeping up with his king’s pace. His golden armor clanged at his movements, providing the only noise in the otherwise silent hallway. The fading sunlight streamed in through the open windows, splashing down onto the floor in dull orange streaks.

“You’re going after her…” Sinbad froze mid-step, one of his feet stepping out of the ray of light they were currently in and into darkness. On Masrur’s shoulder, a faded  _M_  shone a shade lighter than his skin, the brand old enough to otherwise blend seamlessly. “Aren’t you?” It wasn’t a question, just a statement. Sinbad remained silent, his shoulders tense. At the lack of response, Masrur sighed once more. “You know it won’t do you, or him, any good… This is exactly what she wants and you know it.”

“She attacked one of my men, Masrur. I believe that she will do so again if not confronted. This is for Sindria’s safety.” Masrur snorted, rolling his eyes at Sinbad’s explanation.

“Like hell this is for Sindria. She’s provoking you. She wants you to go to her. That’s why she attacked Ja’far of all people.” Pausing for a moment, he studied the tense form of his king in front of him. “You’ve never been able to think straight when it comes to her.” Sinbad laughed, the sound lacking amusement. When he glanced back at his general, his golden eyes were dark, sparks of anger flashing in his gaze.

“And you have?” Masrur averted his gaze, his scowl deepening. “You were as much her prisoner as I was. And you know as well as I do that if I don’t do something, she will strike again until she gets exactly what she wants.”

“And what if you’re what she wants?” Sinbad’s hands curled into tight fists at his sides, squeezing his eyes shut at the mere thought.

“Then so be it.” The admission was softly spoken, but dropped heavily in the silence. Masrur started, his scarlet eyes widening in shock.

Without another word, Sinbad walked away, his steps echoing loudly as he moved.

**MLMMLM**

Sinbad, in Baal’s full djinn equip, smashed down onto the inner shores of a cliff enclosed island, the skies above him rolling with thunder. His eyes were blazing, his grip tight around the clawed hilt of Baal’s sword. Locks of sapphire hair billowed with the wind, bangs flopping messily into his eyes. Twin golden horns sprouted from his forehead, matching the glimmering jewel sitting between them. Lightning prickled at his scale encrusted fingers, sparking between the tips of his claws. The tail behind him twitched angrily, but otherwise sat motionless.

He was well and truly pissed.

Sound drew his gaze, the scraping of feet against stone nearly blending into the gentle roar of the waves crashing against the shore. Eyes gleamed in the darkness of the holes embedded in the cliff side, lit by the crackling lightening he had drawn with his presence. Without acknowledging the children watching him, he stormed into the caves, his chin lifted. They wouldn’t stop him if they knew what was good for them. Ja’far might stop at hurting children, but Sinbad had no such qualms when his kingdom was at stake. They scattered like flies at his presence, upturned faces betraying their awe for his power. Stripes of red slashed across their faces, marking them for exactly what they were. His jaw clenched, sharp fingernails digging into his palm as his grip tightened further around his sword.

It took him only a few moments to reach the innermost chamber, slamming one foot into the door to force it open before striding confidently, defiantly, inside. The circular room was lit by fire, ornate torches lining the walls to throw flickering light well into the center of the chamber. A tall line of stairs ran from the center to the back wall, a line of children standing guard at the foot of the steps. Each one held a knife, sharp edges gleaming brightly. Their faces were innocent, some expressions struggling to hide their fear, but their eyes shone with anger, with loyalty. To  _her._

“My my, Sinbad. That was quite an entrance. Do you always make a point of being so dramatic?”

That voice, so sweet, so  _seductive,_  sent chills down his spine, faint flashes of memories nudging his thoughts before they were suppressed. Feeling nauseas, his gaze travelled upwards to the top of the stairs. In her ornate throne, Maader sat, a nearly matronly smile pulling at her lips if one didn’t see the sharpness at the edges. Her dress dipped low, full breasts spilling out from under it. But even that wasn’t enough to distract him. His eyes met hers with a shudder he quickly stifled, an easy smile spreading across his own face. She wouldn’t get to him. He wouldn’t let her.

“Only for you, Lady Maader. Such elegant theatrics would be wasted on anybody else,” he responded, surprising himself with a smooth tone. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her smile growing.

“Very true.” Slowly, she stood, gliding down the steps in front of her throne. But her gaze remained locked on Sinbad, her head held high in an attempt to make herself seem bigger than she was. Sinbad’s jaw clenched at her advance, his teeth grinding together. “But you should know, my child. I don’t go by Maader anymore. My new children refer to me as Umm Madaura, a fitting name for a mother. Wouldn’t you agree?” Her guard glanced back at her, proud smiles stretching across their faces when one of her hands caressed the top of their heads.

_Don’t fall for it. Don’t fall for it._

“Is that so? My apologies then. I wasn’t aware you were operating under a different name.” Satisfaction fluttered across her features, stepping out from behind the children. They blinked in surprise, but did nothing. Some guards they were. One of her hands reached out, her fingers brushing against the sapphire scales encasing his arm. He pulled back almost instantly, unable to keep the disgust from his expression. But she persevered, moving closer so that she could run a delicate finger against the line of his jaw.

“Have you been keeping tabs on me, dear Sinbad?” she mused, amused at the goosebumps prickling the skin she touched. “Making sure that your mother was alright? You always were such a good child.” He grabbed her wrist, his anger resurfacing in a flash. The smile melted from his face, replaced by a deep, serious scowl.

“I’m not your child, Madaura. I never was.” His grip tightened around her, fingernails digging into her pale skin. But not even a wince crossed her expression, that calming grin still painted across her scarlet lips. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, please explain to me why you deemed it necessary to attack one of my men?” His voice was beginning to shake, her proximity unnerving him.

“You’re wrong there, my child.” Her free hand, one encased in a strange, animal-like glove, caressed the scar, the  _brand_ , on his shoulder, hidden by the intricate meshwork of scales that surrounded his body. He froze, the tips of her fingers tracing the lines of the mark. “You were my child, if only for a short while. But once you are my child, you are always my child…” Her head cocked to the side, her eyes slipping shut. He barely noticed that she failed to answer her reasoning behind her attacks, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. Sweat dotted his forehead, fear swirling in his stomach.

“My mark is forever etched upon your soul.”

He sucked in a shocked breath, his eyes widening. He couldn’t move, body frozen in place by both her touch and her words. Memories rose unbidden, scenes of pain and false forgiveness washing over his thoughts. Tears stung at his eyes, slipping down paling cheeks. His hand loosened around his weapon, the other going slack around her wrist. Madaura took a step forward, her hands circling around his tense form. Her head rested up against his, her palm pressed against the brand. So lost in his own turmoil, Sinbad failed to notice the faint glow that stole over the glove. Madaura’s grin sharpened, her eyes glittering.

“You belong to me.”

_Holy Mother Halo Fan._


	5. Chapter 5

When Ja’far awoke next the pain coursing through him had faded into dulled throbbing, the bandages that encased his body feeling tight and constricting around his healing body. He stared blankly up at the ceiling for a few long moments, blinking sluggishly as he gathered his thoughts. Rosy dawn light splashed color into the dreary room, a cool breeze wafting a briny scent in through the windows. The air around him was still and silent, a strange tension thick in the atmosphere. Something wasn’t right here. A scowl slashing across his pale features, he pushed himself upright, the skin around his eyes tightening in pain at the movement. One of his arms pressed against his abdomen, clutching at the injury that was carved diagonally through his flesh. He sat, gasping, and scanned the room, his free hand fisting in the bedsheets.

Sin was nowhere to be found.

Masrur was standing by the closed door, a slight frown marring his otherwise stoic expression. He didn’t move to assist Ja’far, his scarlet gaze simply watching him. His arms were loose at his sides, fingers curling lightly into fists periodically. Despite his calm appearance, every one of Masrur’s muscles was taut, as if he were expecting an attack at any moment. But Ja’far could sense no violence in the otherwise turbulent atmosphere, just worry and fear. Ja’far’s fair eyebrows furrowed as he met Masrur’s eyes, not liking the concerned gleam to them.

“Masrur,” he greeted slowly after clearing his throat, trying to rid himself of the persistent rasp to his words. “Can I help you with something?” Masrur continued staring, his frown deepening, but didn’t respond. Ja’far dropped the arm that was wrapped protectively around himself, the sharp ache fading as more pressing concerns were brought to attention. “Is something wrong?” Masrur broke his silence with a sigh.

“We’ve got a problem, Ja’far,” he rumbled, his voice low. “A big problem.” Ja’far released a breath, though it didn’t relieve any of his tension.

“It pertains to Sin, doesn’t it?” Masrur blinked, a little surprised at Ja’far’s question. “What did he do this time?”

“It’s Maader.” Ja’far froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins. Of all the things… Her name still sent furious shivers down his spine, his hands reflexively reaching for his weapons. “She was the one who ordered the attack on you.”

“Sin went after her, didn’t he?” Masrur nodded, the slow bobbing of his head sending anxiety spiking through Ja’far’s body. Gritting his teeth, he cast his gaze to the window, his grip now vice-like around his sheets. He was out of bed in mere seconds, the blankets flung haphazardly to the side. His pain increased to a violent ache, his knees nearly buckling beneath him. His hand grabbed at the bed stand, his knuckles white as he attempted to keep himself on his feet. Involuntary tears stung at his eyes, encasing his vision in a waterlogged blur until he could blink them back. Damp sweat clung to the back of his neck, dotting his forehead as he forced his way through the initial dizziness.

Stupid Sin. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Get me my clothes,” he gasped out, forcing his pain to the back of his thoughts. “And gather the generals in Yamuraiha’s office. I’ll be there shortly.”

**MLMMLM**

Pain was but a distant and fleeting sensation as he made his way down the airy halls of the palace, Masrur dogging his footsteps the entire trek. His robes billowed behind him, his feet clacking against the cleaned tile. He’d decided against his usual headwear in lieu of speed, though his weapons were wrapped tightly around his limbs over the bandages. Despite the early hour, several palace workers stopped and stared as Ja’far flew past, but he didn’t even spare them a passing glance. He cursed inwardly, his thoughts focused on the dumbass of a king that he had chosen to follow.

They were at Yamuraiha’s office in moments, her magic thick in the air. Dull chattering drifted through the closed door, the sounds coming to an abrupt stop the moment Ja’far shoved the door open. He could feel stares as he walked inside, the door clicking shut in the now silent room. His onyx gaze was steady as he quickly searched the room, a serious gleam in his dark eyes. The generals were speckled through the magic-rich office, varying looks of confusion and concern painted across their faces. At the first waver in his stance, the room exploded with noise, shouted inquiries about his health thrown through the air.

“Enough!” he demanded, straining his voice to manage such a volume. Startled silence followed his order. With a sigh, he ran an anxious hand through his silver hair. “You need not be concerned about me. I’m not the one who needs it right now.”

“Should you even be out of bed?” Yamuraiha blurted, her staff already in hand. He shot her a stern glance, a sharp frown creasing his features. She quieted, her firm grip around her staff relaxing slightly at his expression.

“I’m fine,” Ja’far insisted, no room for discussion left in his tone. “This meeting is not about me.” He paused, releasing a quick breath to calm himself. He shook out his sleeves and brought his hands together, hiding the slight tremble to his hands. “Lord Sin has done something he shouldn’t and may be in need of our help.” Sharrkan snorted from his place beside Yamuraiha, unsurprised by the news. Yamuraiha elbowed him in the stomach, glaring up at him with a scowl. Ja’far paid them no mind, continuing on without missing a beat. “Depending on how quickly the news has spread, you may know by now that Maader was behind my attack. Sin took it upon himself to seek revenge, likely falling into whatever trap she had set for him in the process.” He clenched his jaw, fury blazing within him.

“And what is your plan, Ja’far?” Drakon inquired from the back corner of the room, his body not betraying his emotions. “As I’m sure you have one.” Ja’far met his gaze calmly.

“We go after him. As members of his household, we not only have the power to take Maader out without issue, but we have the duty to follow our King. For this though, we will only need a small force, as anything large could be cumbersome and detrimental to our cause. But before I say anything more… Yamuraiha, I have a question.” The woman in question jerked upright at the call of her name, blinking wide eyes at Ja’far. “Is it possible for you to transport us to Sin’s location? Maader, and likely Sin, are located on a small island off the cost of Aktia.”

Yamuraiha stared blankly at him for a moment before pursing her lips in thought, twirling around to tinker with the magic items scattered over her desk. Sharrkan simply took a step back to accommodate her movements. A heavy silence blanketed the room, each set of eyes riveted to her form. Magic pulsed in the air, her staff glowing with its power. With a light sigh, she turned around, meeting Ja’far’s gaze once more. He held his breath, the world fading around him, and waited. She nodded, a confident smile gracing her lips. Relief bubbled up inside Ja’far, his world going gray around the edges. He sagged, his knees weak. Yamuraiha cried out, the other generals mirroring her concern. Masrur grabbed at the back of his robes, roping a single hand around his waist to keep him upright.

“Thank you,” Ja’far breathed, a smile slipping across his face. He swallowed harshly, blinking rapidly as he attempted to gain control over himself. He took a deep breath, pulling himself further upright despite continuing to lean on Masrur.

“Are you alright, Ja’far?” Hinahoho asked, eyebrows drawn together in worry. His question, along with any others, were ignored, Ja’far continuing on with his speech as if nothing had happened. Nobody commented, though everyone knew, what his refusal to answer meant.

“As I said earlier,” he stated, casting his gaze across the room. “We will need a small force. Yamuraiha, Masrur, and I will infiltrate the facility and find Sin. Drakon and Hinahoho must stay behind to cover the roles of both Sin and myself. The rest of you must protect Sindria in our absence. Both Masrur and I have experience in dealing with Maader and Yamuriaha, while being adept in battle, will also be needed as transport. Any questions?”

“Just one,” Yamuraiha interjected, frowning. “Are you insane? You can barely stand and yet you’re going to lead the force?” Dark onyx eyes glared at her, flickers of brilliant anger sparking in the recesses of his gaze.

“I’m fine. There’s no need to worry about me, Yamuriaha.” She rolled her eyes, her frown deepening into a scowl. “Now, are there any other questions that aren’t about my health?” Silence met his question, a begrudging silence. But Ja’far was satisfied, nodding at the lack of response.

“We leave in an hour.”

**MLMMLM**

Chilling laughter met them the moment they entered the central chamber of the island, Ja’far’s hands grabbing at his knives in seconds. The transportation circle that Yamuraiha had created hadn’t been her best work, but it did the job efficiently enough. Upon arrival, it was a simple matter to track their target down, a task that lead them here. Up near the back of the circular room sat Maader, nearly hidden in the shadows cast by the torches lining the walls. She grinned down at them, her dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Sindrian officials, here to rescue their king…” More laughter, her head tilting back. “If I had known it would be so easy to lure you all here, I wouldn’t have bothered going to the lengths I did.”

Ja’far glared up at her, the glimmering tips of his knives poking out from under his sleeves. His lips were pressed tightly together, twisting downwards into a bloodless scowl. The freckles sprinkled across his cheeks stood out greatly on his pale face, accenting the dark coloring draining from his eyes, the subtle narrowing of his pupils. Behind him, Masrur’s hands were clenched, though no other outward signs of anger were visible. His scarlet gaze was trained upon his former master, his eyes narrowing subtly. Yamuraiha stood to his left, her lips parted and her grip tight around her staff. Her blue hair was windswept, the speed in which they’d travelled mussing it from its usual neatness. The anger radiating from the group was nearly palpable.

“Give him back, Maader,” Ja’far growled, his weapons beginning to glow in response to his fury. “Failure to comply will result in action on our part.” His sleeves pooled at his elbows as he lifted his blades, twisting them threateningly. Maader’s head tilted to the side, a manic glow to her eyes. Her smile widened, the expression mocking in its nature. Ja’far’s grip tightened around his knives, his jaw clenching. His hands shook subtly, his eyes narrowing.

“And what will you do for me if I do comply? I am a businesswoman, after all.”

“ _Were_  a businesswoman,” Ja’far corrected, smirking at her. Maader’s expression faltered, annoyance flashing across her features.

“But,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “If you have nothing to offer me, I’m afraid I can’t relinquish Sinbad to you. He is my child.” Ja’far nearly growled at the words, his snake-like eyes murderous. Masrur tensed, alarm flickering over his face. “But I always have room in my ever-expanding family. Perhaps you and yours would like to become my children as well. Come, follow your king into your mother’s arms.” She spread open her arms, a pale glow encasing her right hand. 

That was the last straw.

Ja’far’s head cocked to the side, a wild, almost crazy, look in his eyes. His knives were clutched tightly in his hands, the edge of one brought up to his lips, hiding the vicious grin that stretched behind it. His irises had paled to a dull gray, his pupils mere slits.

“I’m not sure you want me as your child, Maader,” he hissed. “After all, I  _killed_  both of my parents.”

The threat hung ominously in the air, enough to even make Maader falter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pissed Ja'far is my favorite Ja'far. <3


	6. Chapter 6

The smile slipped from Madaura’s features, her arms dropping limply to her sides. The faint glow from her glove faded, flickering shadows overlapping in its place. Her eyes narrowed, searching the small group in front of her with a calculating gaze. Masrur, she knew well. He may have grown since the last time she saw him, but that stoic expression was recognizable anywhere. It seemed Sinbad had succeeded where she had failed with him. But there was a look of cold anger in his eyes, evident by the subtle clenching of his fists. At least she’d finally managed to get some emotion from him. Beside him was a young woman, Yamuraiha, if her intelligence was correct. A young magician, her wooden staff held tight in her frail-looking hands. There was a mysterious glow to her blue eyes, a distinct hum of power hovering about her. Her lips were twisted into a deep scowl, a fiery glare burning deep in her gaze.

In front of them stood Ja’far, his body drawn as tight as a wire. Fury rose up around him like a dark cloud, dancing within irises that had taken on the appearance of a snake. His knives were held tightly in both hands, their tips shaking in his anger. Mussed silver hair fell messily into his face, covering dark bruises that were speckled across his forehead and eyes. His jaw was clenched, lips peeled back to bear his teeth. Bandages were wound tightly around his bared forearms and Madaura knew of the wrapping that covered his torso as well. But if he was in pain, it didn’t even flicker across his expression.

She would get nowhere with this group. They were far too loyal. 

Breathing out a deep sigh, she lifted her chin, a bemused smile once again stretching across her features. As always, she knew exactly how to deal with problem children. 

Strike them where it would hurt the most. 

“Fine…” she relented, locking her gaze with Ja’far’s. He jolted with surprise, lifting fair eyebrows in his shock. Her voice was sweet, almost too sweet, but leaden with a conviction that she couldn’t hide, despite her attempts. Ja’far’s expression hardened once more, his eyes narrowed to slits. “I suppose I can bring Sinbad to you…” He twirled his blades in his hands, rolling the hilts against the rough callouses of his palms. Behind him, Yamuraiha gasped, surprised at how easily Madaura had given in. Masrur gave no outward sign of reaction, but his feet spread subtly further apart, his knees giving slightly. A battle stance.

Maader couldn’t be trusted, nor should Madaura.

Footsteps echoed around the small room, originating from behind Madaura. Her grin widened, pleased. The jingle of metal followed each step, the sound all too familiar to Ja’far. His breath froze in his throat, his eyes widening as a man stepped out beside Madaura. Locks of dark purple hair swished into view, accenting the dark bronze gaze that stared blankly at the group. Heavy jewelry dangled from his sturdy frame, gleaming in the flickering candlelight. Though no power was radiating from the metal, something that came of some relief. But no recognition showed on his expression. Ja’far’s fingernails dug deeply into his palms, his throat bobbing as he swallowed harshly.

Sinbad.

Yamuriaha drew in breath, her staff dropping from its ready position. A relieved smile stretched across her face, one of her hands coming up to press against her heart. But as she moved to call out to Sinbad, Ja’far’s hand snapped out in front of her, his blade still tight in his grasp. “Don’t,” he growled, glancing quickly back at her. “Just trust me.” Loud laughter tumbled through the tense atmosphere, Madaura stepping closer to Sinbad. Ja’far glowered up at her, hatred spilling from his tight frame.

“Why stop her, Ja’far?” Madaura purred, reaching up to press her palm to Sinbad’s cheek. He didn’t stir at her touch, continuing to stare blankly ahead. “She has every right to want to embrace her king.” Her fingers traced the edge of his jaw, fingernails scraping gently at his smooth skin. Ja’far froze, his weapons blazing with sudden light. “Or is it that you want to be the first…?” The suggestion was left unsaid, but enough for Ja’far to suck air in through his teeth, hissing at her meaning. Madaura’s other arm reached up, her head leaning up against Sinbad’s shoulder. The hand that had been caressing his face dropped down, stroking instead at his chest. Her body was flush against his form, her dark grin aimed at Ja’far. “I can’t say I blame you…Ja’far.”

There was no warning, no sound that prefaced his attack. Ja’far struck with all the silence of an assassin, a heavy bloodlust emanating from his tense body. His mouth was opened in a soundless screech of fury, murder etched in his paled irises. Silver hair whipped back from his face at his speed, his robes slipping from his shoulder. He landed soundlessly in front of them, the quiet hissing of his knives slicing through the air only evident when he was directly on top of the pair.

His blades screeched to a sudden stop, intercepted by a familiar sword. Sparks rose from the collision, Ja’far’s arms shaking as he pressed further forward. Anger surged through him, powered by the pain that ached deep within at the situation. Sinbad slashed upward, causing Ja’far to jump back when his twin weapons slid from the sword. Ja’far growled and swept forward once more, casting out one of his knives. The wire wrapped around Baal’s sword once more, the knife clanging to a stop against the hilt of the blade. Sinbad pulled the wire taut, pulling Ja’far forward towards him.

“Do not hurt my mother,” he ordered monotonously, drawing a sharp gasp from Ja’far. Madaura, who’d stepped back earlier during the encounter, smirked, interlacing her fingers out in front of her.

“Yes, my child. Protect your dearest mother.”

A sudden rumbling filled the small room, battle cries bouncing from the walls as children stormed into the chamber. Yamuraiha and Masrur spun around, taking quick steps back to avoid the first slashing of knives from their child attackers. They lined the halls, led by an older boy who stood before them. The sides of his head where shaved, the locks of black hair sprouting form the back of his head tied back into a tight ponytail. He lifted a sword, its sharp, curved edge glinting. “To protect Madaura!” he cried, pointing the tip of his sword at the two generals. The children lifted weapons of their own.

“TO PROTECT MADAURA!”

Yamuraiha stepped before Masrur, her mouth a determined slash across her features. The tip of her staff began to glow, the beginnings of a spell beginning to spill from her lips. Water began to build up in front of her, collecting on the top of the room and pooling on the bottom. Swords stabbed at the forming wall, surprised to bounce off of its edge. Without another word, Masrur nodded, spinning on his heel and rushing off the in opposite direction. Yamuraiha watched him go from the corner of her eyes, a pleased and confident smile pulling at her lips.

Ja’far sprang forward, leaping over Sin’s form. He pulled back on his captured weapon, the wires slipping from Sin’s blade without struggle. Landing deftly behind him, Ja’far swung out, predicting Sin’s twirl before it even happened. The tip of his blade connected with the hilt of the sword, grunting with effort as he pressed upward. The sword didn’t budge from Sin’s grasp, the king’s expression impassive at Ja’far’s attack. Sin shoved forward, knocking Ja’far off-balance, and quickly moved behind him. Ja’far spun, trying to find his feet, only to meet Sin’s bronzed gaze. Two palms connected with his stomach with a force stronger than expected, power rippling through his already injury ridden form.

He was forced from the top of the pillar, toppling down the steps until he rolled to a stop at the bottom. A cough ripped up from his chest, blood bubbling from his lips. His arm came up to wrap around his abdomen, feeling a sudden surge of pain from the rough cough. Dampness clung to his fingers, crimson blood beginning to flower the front of his robes. His wound had reopened. Ja’far curled in on himself, another set of wet coughs wracking his pained frame. Scarlet spattered the ground in front of him, glimmering in the orange glow of the flames.

A pair of familiar shoes stepped before him, a presence he would know almost anywhere flooding his senses. Desperation flowed through him, tears burning at his eyes. Sinbad stood over him, sword held at ready. His golden eyes were so dark, so lost. Ja’far wanted to get up and wrap his arms around him, pull him back into the light. Just as he’d done for him. Jaw clenched, he let his onyx eyes fall shut, preparing for the end he knew was coming. It wasn’t as if he’d actually attempted to fight back. Not this time. A tear rolled down his cheek, the sword swinging down.

Masrur grabbed the blade, its edge cutting his palm. His expression was guarded, but determination flashed in his gaze. He forced Sinbad back, releasing the sword in one fluid motion. He stalked towards him, bare toes digging into the ground in preparation. “Get up, Ja’far!” he roared, surging forward. Dust billowed in his wake, the ground cracking at the force of his attack. Sinbad lurched backward, barely avoiding Masrur’s rushing form. Masrur slid to an abrupt stop, his knuckles popping as he curled his hands into tight fists.

Ja’far watched, his breath whistling in and out of his torn throat. Pain throbbed through his weakened form, spiking through from the center of his being. His onyx gaze was trained on Sinbad, tracking his movements with a practiced eye. He had to bring Sinbad back, but how was he to stop this? He was weak, unable to even fully defend himself against Sin’s attacks. Frowning, he averted his gaze, his hand fisting in his stained clothes. Without bidding, the memory of their last meeting flashed through his thoughts. He brushed his free hand against his lips, not noticing the blood that smeared against his pale skin. Determination flooded him with a renewed vigor, a sharp scowl twisting his lips. Pulling himself back to his feet, he wrapped his weapons back against his wrists.

He would stop this…No matter the cost.

Above them, Madaura watched the battles, flicking an uninterested gaze towards Yamuraiha’s barrier. It was holding strong, none of her children breaking through the waters. She doubted they would. But it was the distraction she needed. If a magician were to pay attention for long enough, especially one of her caliber, she would suspect the magics that Madaura was using on all of her children, including Sinbad. Ja’far, on the other hand, was too lost in his own passions to notice anything. A twisted smirk spread across her features, accenting the dark humor in her eyes. “How awful it must feel, to attack your king…” she mused loudly, noting Ja’far’s sharp intake of breath.

It wouldn’t be long now.

Ja’far walked, a slight stumble to his steps, towards the raging battle, Madaura’s words stirring in the back of his mind. But the anger had drained from him, leaving only a deep sadness and an even deeper desperation. Masrur flew past him, pushed back by Sin’s attack. His heels dug into the ground, his body skidding to a stop. His scarlet gaze locked onto Ja’far, worry instantly flashing on his face. But by the time he’d noticed, it was too late. “Ja’far!”

Onyx eyes locked onto Sin’s face, grinning softly at the fierce expression that met his gaze. He reached forward, palms bare, his fingers outstretched. But he jerked to a stop, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. A sharp pain swirled up from his abdomen, his hands dropping down to grasp at the source. They met metal, his fingertips sliced open on its sharp edge. Ja’far glanced down, sad acceptance softening his gaze.

Sin’s sword was embedded in his abdomen, its tip torn right through his body.

Swallowing harshly, his eyes travelled upwards once more, tears hazing his vision. “Enough…Sin,” he coughed, blood rolling in a dark, crimson stream from the corner of his lips. Water trickled down his cheeks, mingling with the blood staining his chin. Both dripped onto the ground below, darkening the floor. Ja’far reached up, cupping both of Sin’s cheeks in his palms. “Remember…The promise you made me…of our time together…”

He smiled, scarlet blood smeared on his teeth. “You can beat this.”

And he pulled himself forward, impaling himself further on the sword, and pressed his lips to Sin’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs away* I'M NOT SORRRYYYYYYY~~~~~~


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys may want to...uh...drink a glass of water before reading this chapter... 
> 
> You know...ahem...just in case. 
> 
> :)

_Sinbad stumbled in darkness, the swirling shadows surrounding him and encompassing everything in their dark grip. His body was heavy and weak, stuttering gasps spilling out from between parted lips. Silence permeated the atmosphere, accenting the stillness to the air, the stifling sound of his own heartbeat. The area was unfamiliar, still unrecognizable despite the amount of time he’d spent searching its wide expanses. The shadows stretched everywhere, even into his own thoughts._

_He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t think._

_He really just wanted to get out of here._

_Letting out a loud, frustrated scream, he sank to his knees, his arms dropping out in front of him to help support his weight. This place…it felt wrong somehow. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Gritting his teeth, he scanned the surrounding area once more, his frustration mounting at finding nothing. How was he supposed to escape if there was no way out? His hands curled into fists on the ground, a deep scowl carved across his features._

_She would get her way if he didn’t escape. Too bad he wasn’t entirely sure of who ‘she’ was. His shoulders slumped, his head falling forward with an exhausted sigh. Nothing was adding up, his own contradicting thoughts only leaving confusion in their wake. The urge to run, to escape, fluttered into his consciousness again, flashing urgently into his thoughts. But as he moved to get up, something stopped him._

_A vaguely metallic scent drifted past his nose, familiar in its very nature. Blood. But he wasn’t hurt, or at least he was pretty sure he wasn’t hurt. A whisper brushed against his eardrums, soft and comforting, though the words were unrecognizable. That voice… He knew that voice… Sinbad stiffened at the light warmth that suddenly spread across his lips, confused by his urge to lean into the sensation, to reciprocate it. These were…lips…_

_He jerked upright, memories crashing over him like a violent wave. The darkness began to scatter, a bright, nearly blinding light spilling through the cracks._

Ja’far.

**MLMMLM**

Reality snapped quickly back into place, that fleeting feeling of lips strengthening with the change. Sinbad blinked, his vision an unfocused blur. Dizziness scattered his thoughts, the sudden feeling of wooziness making him unsteady. But he was hyperfocused on the person pressed up against him, even more so of the warmth coating his right hand. The smell of blood was heightened, enough so to stir worry deep within him.

Ja’far pulled away, his breath escaping in light, crackling pants. Sinbad met his gaze, the shimmering onyx softening in relief at the touch of his golden gaze. Warm hands slipped from his cheeks, falling limply to his chest. Damp streaks were left in their wake, strangely cold in the open air. Concern fluttered with him, replaced soon with alarm as he took a moment to look at Ja’far, really look at him.

Those dark eyes were lined with pain, the sensation trembling between Ja’far’s eyebrows. Bruises littered his pale skin, as numerous as the freckles that were always specked across the bridge of his nose. His skin was pale, more so than normal, a gray tint lining the edges of his face. Lips parted, breath crackled from deep within his throat, a tight wheezing that made Sinbad nauseas just to hear. What drew Sinbad’s eyes the most was the scarlet blood that spilled from between those lips, tracing paths down to his chin, staining the pale skin with its bright coloring. Tear tracks carved through dirt and gore. And Ja’far’s eyes were still wet, more tears trembling at the corners of his eyes.

“Ja’far,” Sinbad breathed, lifting a trembling hand to brush against Ja’far’s cheek. Ja’far smiled, the expression weak and strained. “What…what…?” The question wouldn’t leave his lips. Ja’far swallowed thickly, a hacking cough ripping through him. Sin instantly grabbed his shoulders, releasing the hilt of his sword to free up both hands. It was then that he noticed it.

The bright blood coating his weapon hand.

His eyes wide, he glanced down, fear beginning to swirl within him. Baal’s sword was lodged within Ja’far’s abdomen, piercing the flesh just above his left hip. Sinbad’s breathing sped up, the color draining from his face at the sight. Blood encircled the wound, saturating the ripped fabric that surrounded it. His heart thudded loudly in his ears, sharp denials playing endlessly in his head. He couldn’t have. Why would he? Oh, Solomon. Nausea churned in his stomach, bile burning up his throat at the thought.

“Sin…” Ja’far wheezed, bringing Sinbad’s wide eyes back up to his. Panic was etched across Sinbad’s expression, utter terror seizing him from the inside out. Sinbad shook his head, purple locks of hair slapping against his skin at the movements. Tears burned at his eyes, a hard knot lodged in his throat. His mouth dropped open and clicked shut, over and over again. But no words escaped. His thoughts had stuttered to an absolute stop, his body taut. A silent understanding washed across Ja’far’s expression, tinged at the edges with acceptance. Sinbad wasn’t sure which worried him more.

Suddenly, Ja’far’s legs buckled beneath him, a pained gasp escaping his throat at the jostling. Sinbad secured his grip on him, unwilling to let him fall. Warm blood coated his skin, dripping from between his fingers. He lowered his advisor slowly to the floor, laying him slowly onto his back. A weak groan spilled from Ja’far’s lips, his eyelids drooping and his gaze dazed. The situation looked much worse with Ja’far on the floor, a sword poking out from his stomach. But everything Sinbad knew about injuries was out of grasp in his panicked state, his hands fluttering gently over the injury. “Sin…” Ja’far groaned, his head rolling against the floor.

Sinbad’s hands moved up to cup Ja’far’s cheeks, slapping lightly at the cadaverous skin to bring his attention to him. He was so cold. “Ja’far! Look at me, Ja’far!” he called, worry tinging his tone in heightened amounts. Dulled onyx eyes sluggishly rolled up to his face. Fear shot through him like ice, the tears that had been building in his eyes finally spilling down his face. He couldn’t lose Ja’far. He couldn’t. Clenching his jaw, he pressed his palms more fully against the chilled flesh, thumbs brushing at the tears that still trickled absently from those dazed, those blank eyes. “C’mon, Ja’far,” he insisted in a whisper, desperation seeping into his voice. “We made a promise, remember? We would live for each other.” There was no response, only a sluggish blink and a strained intake of breath. Sinbad swallowed harshly, his throat tight. “I-I can’t lose you, Ja’far. You’re what keeps me stable. You’re my light, my sanity. If you were gone…I’d lose myself. I need you…”

Still nothing.

Biting back a cry, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Ja’far’s, allowing one of his hands to drop to grasp at one of the limp hands. “You promised to live for me, not die for me…” He swallowed back sobs, his voice breaking with each passing word. “You can’t die. Please, Ja’far.” His grip around Ja’far’s hand tightened, his lips pressed firmly together. “Please…Stay with me…” Even as the words left his throat, Ja’far’s eyes slipped shut, his head rolling limply to the side. A sudden stillness filled the air, golden eyes staring desperately at the form in front of him.

“No! Please, Ja’far! Stay with me!” Tears cascaded down his cheeks, dripping down onto the pale, bloodstained skin below him. In a frantic burst of speed, he pulled away and ripped the shawl from his shoulders, uncaring if the fabric ripped at all. But as his gaze dropped once more upon the injury, he paused, hopelessness coursing through him. With shaking hands, he gripped the hilt of the sword tightly and carefully drew it from Ja’far’s body, ignoring the pained shudder that coursed through Ja’far’s body at the motion.

This was all his fault.

Without missing a moment, he threw the sword to the ground, the loud clattering barely registering, and began to loop the thick cloth tightly around Ja’far’s thin abdomen. Blood soaked through the white fabric instantly, the crimson stain spreading quickly. His mouth a determined slash, Sinbad continued working, his hands steady despite the terror that was surging inside him. He tied the shawl off, his eyes hopping back up to Ja’far’s still face.

He was unconscious, pale eyelids draped over the onyx gaze that Sinbad craved to see. His hands curled limply on the ground, the creases of his palms caked with blood. The bandages wrapped around his arms were stained, his wounds reopening during the course of the evening. Crimson trailed from his parted lips, dripping from the side of his face to the growing puddle beneath him. Squeezing his eyes shut, Sinbad carefully pulled the limp form to his chest, one of his hands cradling the back of his head. He leaned over, resting his forehead in the nape of Ja’far’s neck. Shoulder shaking with sobs, he clutched desperately at the lax body of his advisor, pressing him tightly against himself. “Please, Ja’far… Don’t go…”

“What will you do now, Sinbad?” Madaura chuckled from her place above them, satisfaction dripping from her voice. With tearstained eyes, Sinbad glared up at her, a sharp scowl twisting his lips. Anger was fast replacing the fear and desperation that filled him, her words fueling the fire. “His wound is fatal. Even if you were to return to your home, he will die. And you…” A slick smile stretched slowly across her painted lips, her eyes narrowing. “You will have to watch as he slowly, painfully, dies, knowing that you were the cause.” Sinbad’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening around Ja’far. The wheezing gasps in his ear were what drove her words home, striking directly at his already bruised and beaten heart.

“What was your goal in all of this, Madaura?” Sinbad demanded, his voice strong despite the sorrow that wove through his tone. Her grin grew, chilling laughter shaking her shoulders. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth, her gaze sadistically leering down at them. Sinbad barely glanced to the side when Masrur stepped behind him with Baal in his hands, the warm presence at his back comforting at least.

“You were the cause of my downfall so many years ago. I wanted to be the cause of yours.”

Fury surged through him without restraint, burning in his golden eyes. Drawing in a quick breath, he pulled himself to his feet, looping an arm around Ja’far’s shoulders and under his knees. “Hear me now, Madaura,” he started quietly, his muscles taut despite the gentleness in which he held Ja’far. She blinked in surprise, her mouth dropping open at the sheer rage in the growl of his words. “For this is your final warning. If you ever come near my country or my people again I will hunt you down and destroy you without mercy. Heed this warning, or consider your life forfeit.” Power radiated around him, lethal in its very nature. His gaze was piercing and focused despite the tears that still trickled from their corners.

Sinbad glanced towards Yamuraiha, who moved to her king’s side without verbal beckoning. The glow of her magic encased them, hardened golden eyes staring up at Madaura until they vanished, drinking in her startled and fearful appearance.

**MLMMLM**

“The former slave mistress has failed, despite the information we fed her,” a cloaked man reported, his head inclined to the woman in front of her. She grinned, tilting her head to the side.

“Fret not,” she soothed. “Even if she did ultimately fail, she still has granted us a great boon.” She paused, glancing again at the glowing glass orb situated in the center of the room. “It was enough to wound Sinbad as much as we did. He will not be as active in the upcoming months. We are free to move as we see fit.” The cloaked man bowed his head once more.

Gyokuen, with a sharp smile still stretched across her face, moved towards the glowing magic item, slapping it from the pedestal with one quick movement. The image of Sinbad, standing defiantly in the face of his former tormentor, shattered against the floor, the scattered pieces losing their glow.

“Everything we do is for Al Thamen, for the revival of our Father.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter!!! But before anyone asks, I do have a sequel in the works!!!! I hope you guys enjoyed this story!!! ^.^

The garden was bathed in darkness, the clouds above obscuring the moon and its light. Shadowed trees rose above the clearing, reaching limbs stretching threateningly towards its center. Soft grass rolled with the gentle breeze, in tandem with the swaying flowers. The colors were dampened, the world coated in shades of gray. A cliff lined the side of the clearing, its edge jutting out into the ocean, which roared and crashed as waves bounced against the rock. Near the cliff sat a small marble bench, close enough for the ocean’s spray to mist the air surrounding it.

Sinbad sat, one of his legs hooked up next to him, on the bench, the hand resting on his upraised knee grasping at a single flower. His golden gaze was trained on the small decorative plant, irises dark and etched with sadness. Lips turned downwards into a soft frown, his thumbs rolled the stem between the pads of his fingers thoughtfully. Thick purple locks of hair tumbled loosely down his back, the thin leather band that normally secured it back pooled beside him. The breeze played with the strands, brushing them back and forth against his features.

The flower itself was plain, the soft petals curling upwards towards its center, intertwining with others of its kind. It shone a brilliant white, even in the darkness, bringing a single droplet of color, of light, into the clearing. But black spots speckled each petal, splotching the pure color with its shadows. But despite the imperfections, Sinbad thought it beautiful, his gaze softening as he continued to study it. It carried power, a strength to it, that dragged attention to its subtle beauty.

But it was frail, a fleeting beauty.

With a quiet sigh, Sinbad cast his gaze to the churning ocean, the waters merely a sea of darkness without any light to reflect upon it. A mist rose up around him when a wave crashed against the cliff face, the taste of salt thick in the air. Without a single glance to the flower, he threw it into the surf, the speckled light a mere pinprick in the shadows. It slowly drifted away with the tide, swaying forwards once before rushing out toward the open ocean.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

The sudden question made Sinbad jump, whipping his startled gaze around to glance at the newcomer. A flame danced near the edge of the clearing, its orange light a small orb around its source. A sliver of bright moonlight broke through the cloud cover, bathing the approaching form of Ja’far in its pale glow. A small grin played across his expression, his dark eyes glinting by the light of the fire. “You’re always so dramatic, Sin,” he remarked, a note of humor in his voice. Sin grinned, pearly white teeth gleaming, and beckoned to Ja’far, dropping his leg from the bench to free up room.

“If I wasn’t so dramatic,” Sin responded. “This country wouldn’t be nearly as fun as it is.” Ja’far rolled his eyes, walking stiffly towards the bench. Pain flickered briefly across his expression, the subtle clench of his jaw alerting Sinbad to its presence. In seconds, he was standing, making his way to Ja’far’s side in three long strides. His hands locked around one of his elbows, the other looping around his waist to help support his weight. Ja’far shot him a grateful glance, though irritation flecked the edges of his expression.

Sinbad helped him over to the bench, lowering him carefully into a sitting position before taking the seat next to him for himself. Ja’far sighed lightly, placing the candle he was holding down. Sin was quick to notice the careful way in which he held himself, his stance slightly hunched over, his shoulder curled protectively inward. “Should you really be up, Ja’far?” he questioned quietly, unable to stop the surge of guilt that rose within him. Ja’far smiled softly, one of his hands dropping down to grasp at Sin’s in reassurance.

“I’m fine, Sin. It’s just a little tender is all. It will pass in time.” Sinbad wasn’t entirely sure he believed him, a look of skepticism crossing over his features. After all, that injury had come very close to taking Ja’far from him. He gritted his teeth and looked away, his eyes pained as the memories rose unbidden from the inner recesses of his thoughts.

MLMMLM

_Yamuraiha worked tirelessly over the bed, the sharp glow of her magic bringing a dreary sort of light to the dark room. Ja’far shone in the glow, his brow pinched with pain and his mouth open to allow agonized gasps to escape. Sweat dotted his forehead, his skin cadaverous even against the matted strands of silver hair that were plastered against his brow. Yamuraiha was equally pale, strained pants jostling her form. Exhaustion lines were carved under her eyes, her eyelids drooping with fatigue. But even so she didn’t stop._

_The wound was out in the open, the torn edges of flesh exposed to the heated air. Blood rolled in scarlet trails down the curve of Ja’far’s side, soaking the white sheet stretched out on the bed under him. The area surrounding the wound was hot and swollen, a strikingly bright red against the otherwise white skin of his abdomen. But despite the magic that had been poured into the injury, it wasn’t healing._

_It had been three days._

_Sinbad leaned up against the back wall, his head in his hands. Guilt ran thick through his veins, throbbing through his body with every beat of his heart. Stray tears snuck out from between his closed eyelids, the skin of his hands damp with the residue. His hair stuck out in awkward angles from under his hands, the oily strands clumped together. He hadn’t moved from this spot in three days, since the moment they had arrived back in Sindria. He couldn’t move, not even to approach Ja’far’s unconscious form._

_After all, this was his fault…wasn’t it?_

_A gasping sob escaped from his throat, a sound he quickly stifled. He glanced up towards the bed, golden eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Yamuraiha was losing strength fast, her body shaking with fatigue. The glow of her magic grew fainter, but she clenched her jaw, her mouth a determined slash across her pale face, and pressed more strength into her spells. But Ja’far still wasn’t improving. His breath crackled from between his lips, the subtle rise and fall of his chest growing fainter and fainter with each passing moment._

_He was dying, as Madaura had said, with agonizing slowness._

_The door sprang open, bright light spilling into the darkened room. Sinbad squinted at the blinding sensation, turning his head away from the opening. Footsteps echoed around the room as a group of people entered, their forms mere silhouettes against the sunlight. Yamuraiha cried out suddenly, the flow of her magoi cutting off suddenly, but as her form slumped, one of the newcomers grabbed her, supporting her weight with her own. Sinbad’s eyes slowly adjusted, the scene he was greeted with not the one he was expecting._

_The room was filled with men and women, their skin tone dark against their stark white hair, all surrounding the bed. Their gazes swept over Ja’far with a critical gaze, concentration creasing their foreheads as they studied his injury. Sharrkan had an unconscious Yamuraiha in his grasp, one of his arms looped around her waist and the other wrapped around her shoulders. Her head lolled on his arm, her body slumped up against his. Concern shone in his eyes, a sharp scowl marring his features. It took Sinbad a moment to realize what this meant, his brain sluggish with fatigue._

_Sharrkan had returned, bringing help from Heliohapt’s healers._

_Silence swept over the room, Sinbad’s eyes trained on the healers. Tension filled the air, the stillness both intimidating and terrifying. Finally, one of the healers glanced up, white hair draped over his shoulder, as the comforting flow of magic once again permeated the room. “We can save him,” were the first words that left his mouth and the rest of his explanation lost to Sinbad. Relief billowed strongly within him, a nearly hysterical laugh bursting from his lips. His knees buckled, his strength suddenly robbed from him._

_A strong arm roped under his arms, scooping him back onto his feet. With dazed eyes, he glanced up at his support. Hinahoho gazed down at him, amber eyes concerned. “Sinbad?” he asked, his voice surprisingly soft. Sinbad burst into laughter once more, the sounds tapering off into shuddering sobs. Tears cascaded freely down his cheeks, collapsing against Hinahoho’s chest._

_“He’s going to be alright, Hina,” he gasped out, relief heavy in his voice. “I didn’t kill him…”_

MLMMLM

“Sin?” Ja’far asked, his voice both curious and concerned. “Is something bothering you?” Sinbad’s shoulder slumped, his eyes sliding over to his advisor’s face. The golden hue glittered in the candlelight, the pained curve of his lips illuminated by the flames. A pale hand came up to press against his cheek, turning his head to face Ja’far. Onyx eyes were soft, his brow furrowed in worry. “Sin, are you alright?”

Sinbad released a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut against the sting of tears that suddenly flooded them. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against the side of Ja’far’s head. One of his hands grasped at the bandages encased Ja’far’s abdomen, hidden by the loose robes that he wore. “I…” he started in a whisper, his voice trembling. “I did this…” Ja’far sighed quietly, combing gentle fingers through Sin’s freely flow strands of hair.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ja’far murmured, his free hand coming down to interlace his fingers with Sin’s.

“Maybe not directly, no, but I could have fought her. Hell, I could have done _something_!” He lifted his head up, raising haunted eyes meet the onyx gaze watching him silently. “But I didn’t. And…and because of that…I almost lost you.” A small grin ghosted across Ja’far’s lips.

“Maybe…But you didn’t. You saved me. I’m alive right now because you acted quickly.” Sinbad blinked, his mouth dropping slightly open. “Was it not by your orders that sent Sharrkan to Heliohapt, despite his banishment? You got me the help I needed, Sin. You even turned down the chance to kill Madaura when you easily could have.” The arguments that fluttered through his thoughts got lodged in his throat, stuck there by the logic in Ja’far’s words. “So stop blaming yourself for all of this. Yes I got hurt, but I’m here. I’m fine. And it’s all because of you.” Sinbad lurched forward, quickly capturing Ja’far’s lips, the relief and worry bleeding out through the movement of his mouth. Ja’far grinned softly, tilting his head for greater access.

They parted after a moment, their foreheads connected. “Thank you,” Sin breathed, the whisper of a smile breaking out across his features. Ja’far shook his head, allowing his eyes to quickly fall shut. The dark freckles splotched across his cheeks were more prominent in the pale glow of the moon, the clouds slowly slipping away with each passing moment. Already the clearing was brighter, colors more pronounced and the sea glinting with its light.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

With a light smile on each of their faces, they leaned in once more, parted lips meeting.

MLMMLM

A man, in a thick cloak to block out the night’s chill stepped off the dock, the crowd leaving the boat swirling around him. The guards stationed near the city’s entrance didn’t even blink at his presence, waving him through without a second glance. A grin stretched across his face, visible from under the hood. He wove through the crowd, allowing his body to mesh seamlessly with those around him, his presence blending with the other citizens.

All was going according to plan.

The brief flutter of black rukh scattered through the night sky, fading into the darkness.


End file.
